


Gerameweek Day 5: Til Death Do us Part

by pajamabees



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Depression, Dissociation, Ivan pining after Alfred but only a small scene and that's it, M/M, Matthew is an amazing brother, also Arthur is a shitty father, probably not even considered pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 19:19:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15892434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pajamabees/pseuds/pajamabees
Summary: The prequel/Alfred's POV of gerameweek day 2: After All This TimeThe year without Ludwig was a long one for Alfred.





	Gerameweek Day 5: Til Death Do us Part

Alfred threw the kitchen towel he had been wringing in his hands across the room. It only made a soft thud, not at all representative of the true anger and hopelessness he felt in that moment.

“Will you just listen to me? No one is trying to tell you what to do!” His voice was louder than he had ever heard it, and his throat ached because of it. “I just want you to think before going on a trip that could get you killed!”

The man he was screaming at stood by the door, one hand on the knob. His head was held high with a square, clenched jaw, stubbornness gleaming in the very eyes Alfred fell in love with. “I have already thought about it for months now. My decision is made.”

Alfred could feel his heart breaking the longer this argument lasted. The first shard of his beating organ fell off the moment Ludwig told him a little over an hour ago.

“If you thought about it for months, why am I just hearing about it? We’re supposed to make decisions together, Ludwig. It’s what couples do!”

“This is not a choice for you to make.”

“But I deserve to have a say.”

“No, you do not. This is my life, my opportunity.”

“Then what was the point of all this!” Alfred was cracking along with the counter-top he had just slammed his fists against. He didn’t understand what was happening. One second he was happy to be home from work, excited to fall into Ludwig’s arms and relish in the warmth of his love. And then it was snatched from him, like pulling the carpet out from under his feet. “What was the point of continuing this relationship for 5 years if I don’t even have a say in our future? Why move in with me only to leave and  _die_ a year later!?”

Ludwig’s glare was jarring. “This argument is over.” He turned the door knob, and Alfred stepped from the kitchen to march towards him.

“No! We are talking about this!”

“We will talk when you have calmed down.”

“I am calm!” Alfred yelled, right as Ludwig slammed the door on him.

Silence enveloped the apartment, the only sound was the echoing remains of their fight and the decrescendo of Ludwig’s footsteps behind the door.

*****

They’ve more or less been a long distance relationship more than an actual one. 

Ludwig studied abroad the last year of college, when they had just gotten together. His first job required him to go to meetings with his boss, which were often out of the country. And when he finally moved up the ladder, Alfred received a job opportunity abroad. There was an astrology organization in Europe that was bigger than the one Alfred worked at. It paid better, too. He took it, and for a year they both saved up their money for vacations together, until Alfred’s old job wanted him back, offering to pay him three times his original wage.

After that, it’s been smooth sailing. They bought an apartment together, and it’s been amazing living with Ludwig. There were no business trips, no long periods of time without seeing each other. Alfred came home every night to Ludwig making dinner, and if Ludwig was late, Alfred would be the one who cooked. It’s been the best year of Alfred’s life. They supported each other through everything.

But Alfred couldn’t handle this one. He could take business trips and study abroad programs, but Ludwig will be in the middle of war. He will be amongst soldiers, with only a camera and a journal.

He will be leaving work for more than a year--a year’s paycheck. Alfred’s job paid enough to support the both of them, but all their savings and funds had to be put on hold. They’ll be a year behind on getting that house they’ve always wanted, and the vacation they’ve been planning was dipped.

Alfred told himself he would have been more supportive if it wasn’t just sprung up on him. He told himself that if Ludwig told him about the opportunity the moment he found out, he would have more time prepare, both their bank accounts and himself. But that wasn’t true.

*****

Their relationship was strained in the two months leading up to Ludwig’s inevitable trip. Arguments were more frequent, and would come up at random times. They fought, and made up, sometimes in the same day. Sometimes after a week of silence.

It was during those two months that Alfred realized he loved Ludwig the most. He always thought it was equal, that they loved each other the same amount. Despite settling into a nice home with successful, solid jobs, Ludwig still chose his love for photography and journalism over him. And how could Alfred compete with that?

“Why am I not enough? Why am I not important?”

“Alfred, this decision had nothing to do with you.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty obvious. You didn’t even think about me before you accepted the offer, did you?”

Ludwig opened his mouth to respond, but Alfred was tired. He stood up from the couch without a word and silently walked to their bedroom. He thought of slamming the door, but didn’t have the energy to do so. Instead, he closed it with a soft click, and crawled into bed.

He only half expected Ludwig to slip in beside him during the night, but he still woke up feeling nauseous when the sheets next to him were cold.

*****

He tried to hold onto him. From the beginning, he knew there was nothing stopping Ludwig from going, but Alfred still wanted him here during the last months they had left. He wanted to spend what little time they had together.

He couldn’t even have that.

Ludwig was working late hours, said he asked his boss for overtime to save up more money. Alfred came home to an empty apartment. He ate alone and slept alone. He couldn’t even catch Ludwig in the morning. It was a preview of what next year would look like, and Alfred hated it.

When he wasn’t working, Ludwig was with other journalists, preparing for his trip. He was calling people left and right, meeting up with them on weekends.

“Ludwig? Where are you going?”

“I am meeting up with another reporter. He is going to walk me through some basics.”

“But--”

And then the front door would shut. Alfred hated that door. He also hated the cherry pie he had made, because it was one of Ludwig’s favorites. He was so disgusted by it that he couldn’t bring himself to eat it, so he gave it to the neighbors.

*****

“Francis is going to drive me to the airport,” Ludwig said one night, and Alfred wondered if he would have ever told him that if he hadn’t stayed up to wait for Ludwig to come home.

“Okay,” was all Alfred said, not even looking at him. He sat on the window seat, staring at the small city below them caked in darkness. He couldn’t actually see much besides glares of light, so he was mostly staring at a darkened version of himself. In the reflection, he noticed Ludwig standing behind him, gazing at his back.

“Alfred?”

It was the first sign of concern he’d gotten from Ludwig in weeks, but by then it was already too late.

“Stay,” Alfred wanted to tell him in that moment.

“Have fun packing tomorrow,” he told him instead. And once again, exhaustion hit him like a wave, and he got up from his seat and dragged himself to their room, the one they barely shared anymore.

*****

Alfred wanted to say sorry, he wanted to tell Ludwig to be safe and to come back to him in one piece. He knew from the start that he was being selfish, but the hurt and disrespect he felt from being second best to a job was impossible to hide and get over.

But the absolute worst part was not saying goodbye. Alfred was well aware that Ludwig hated certain confrontations that were tense or awkward--he knew him long enough to understand why Ludwig didn’t say his farewells. That didn’t mean Alfred couldn’t be angry about it, though. And he was. He was extremely angry.

It was this fury boiling in his stomach that caused him to wreak havoc upon the empty apartment. Towels were thrown, especially the ones Ludwig used. All the cushions and pillows were torn off the couch, the clothes Ludwig left crumbled to the floor. It was like a tornado hit the apartment, that tornado being Alfred, overcome with emotion he never thought he had.

It wasn’t until he reached into the cabinet and grabbed a mug to hurl across the kitchen did he stop.

He held the cup mid throw, panting hot, furious breaths. His chest heaved as he restrained himself, his arm falling to his side like a limp noodle as his shoulders slumped forward. He stared at the mug.

It was old, with a crack running down the side, straight through the words ‘World’s Best Dad’. It was a funny gift he gave Ludwig back when they were friends in college, working on a group project together that involved growing and taking care of an assigned plant in biology.

He cradled it to his chest, leaning back against the fridge and crumbling to the floor. The first of many tears rolled down his cheeks in streams.

*****

The trunk slammed shut, and Alfred grumbled as he raced to open the car door, rain pattering against his jacket. He rushed to turn on the ignition, immediately switching the heating on its hottest setting. He rubbed his fingerless gloves together, cursing as the car blew out cold air instead.

It’s been nearly two months since Ludwig left, and Alfred finally decided to go grocery shopping for the food he desperately needed. He’s been avoiding the chore, never in the mood these days to be in public besides work. But unfortunately, food was a necessity, and he couldn’t live off of the few snacks left in the apartment, or order take out whenever hunger finally decided to show up. It took all of his energy to get dressed on a saturday night and go out for some simple food shopping. The only motivational factor he could come up with was that it was better than spending anymore time in that cold apartment.

He considered this shopping trip to be a success, and it felt a little less overwhelming at night. It was quiet and calm in the store, with barely anyone in the aisles or at check out. There were parking spots everywhere, but Alfred decided to park far away where there were no other cars. He figured he needed the walk, and plus, parking between two cars felt a little too stressful at the moment.

But now, he wished he had parked a little closer. He was soaked, feeling even more down in the dumps than he had a few hours ago, especially as he sat in the car. Alone. He tried to breathe, forcing himself to forget how he hadn’t gone shopping for groceries by himself in nearly 5 years because Ludwig always went with him, or done the shopping himself. He didn’t trust Alfred to follow the list and stay within the budget.

Alfred nearly smiled at the thought, but it was bittersweet and full of a type of loneliness he hadn’t felt in a long while. He reached into his jacket and pulled out his own list, almost wishing that it was Ludwig’s handwriting instead of his.

It wasn’t until he read down each scratched off word that he realized.

“Fuck!” He slammed his hands against the steering wheel as a sudden wave of anger and self-hatred hit him hard. He forgot paper towels, the last thing on his list.

It was so simple. The simplest mistake ever, and normally he would have calmly gotten out of his car to run back into the store. He probably would have laughed about it to Ludwig, who would then roll his eyes and tell him that this was the exact reason why he shouldn’t go to the store by himself. But in that moment, it was Alfred’s breaking point. Because he forgot his glasses at the apartment. Because he couldn’t read the list with his awful eyesight. Because he had a bad memory to begin with. Because his stupid brain never stopped wondering and caused him to get sidetracked. Because now it was raining and he parked so far away with no umbrella. Because out of all things he could have forgotten, it was something he actually needed. And finally, because Ludwig wasn’t there, off to some dangerous job that has probably already killed him.

For the first time in a few weeks, he sobbed, the rain pouring against the windshield of his lonely car.

*****

Alfred was always impulsive, but only when it came to mixing weird spices just because he was curious, or if he saw a cute nic nac that suddenly produced such a strong urge within him that he just had to get it. But even he had to admit that this was a little...much.

“Okay little guy….” He opened the crate, and out came a limping cat with short grey fur. It looked around, meowing in confusion as it sniffed the air. Alfred watched a little ways to the side, allowing the old cat to have its space and wonder around. He made sure to get cat beds and scratching posts that were low to the ground, just as his neighbor instructed. He even bought a new litter box that the animal could step in rather than jump in, and he was thankful that his apartment had no stairs.

“I hope you like the taste of chicken,” he said to the cat, Jinx was his name, “I heard fish-tasting foods were bad for male kitties.”

Jinx perked his ears, but he mostly ignored Alfred, too preoccupied with slowly creeping around the living space. Alfred didn’t mind.

Although he mostly minded his own business, Alfred enjoyed his company quite a lot. It was something to look forward to after work, and after a while Jinx would even come out to say hello to him. But other than that, there wasn’t much else.

Poor Jinx was very old, and his owners, Alfred’s neighbors, couldn’t take care of him because of their kids. He needed a more relaxing life, especially since he was almost towards the end of it. Alfred immediately offered to take him in without even thinking, and sometimes he would come home with a sudden fear that he would find Jinx on the ground, unmoving.

But Jinx has proved himself to be quite youthful, running into the room whenever he hears food, jumping onto the counter when Alfred is trying to cook. His neighbors told him he probably won’t even be able to jump onto the couch, but nearly everyday Alfred came home to find the old cat lounging on his sofa instead of the cat bed he bought.

Jinx was a blessing. The best investment from Alfred’s impulses. There wasn’t much one could do with a cat, especially since they mostly wandered about and did their own thing, but it took Alfred’s mind off of everything.

And when he was feeling especially down after a long day, crawling into bed because his feelings were just too much and were about to overflow, he felt very faint movements on his bed, and he lifted his head to see Jinx, silent and careful. He creeped around a bit, until he tucked himself behind Alfred’s knees.

From that moment on, Alfred’s bed didn’t feel that cold anymore.

*****

“Alfred, I’m going to tell you something you don’t want to hear.” His father’s words immediately switched on Alfred’s defensive mode, and he held his fork mid-bite. The dinner table grew tense all of sudden, both his brother and his other father looking in Arthur’s direction. This was supposed to be a simple family dinner, suggested by his sweet brother, Matthew, after being on the end of every phone call from Alfred. But there could never be anything simple in this family.

“Arthur,” Francis warned, because he was always the gentler father of the two. Arthur of course pretended not to hear.

“He’s not thinking about you,” he said, his words harsh and bitter and tearing right through Alfred’s chest, “He’s out there living his life. And what are you doing?”

Alfred stared at his plate, the food suddenly feeling heavy in his stomach. When he didn’t reply, his father started again.

“You know Francis had to take off work today for this dinner, right? He missed a day because it’s been 6 months and you still spend your Friday nights in bed.”

“Arthur!” Francis glared at the old man, then he turned towards Alfred with a softer gaze. He touched his hand, and Alfred felt numb to the comfort. “It wasn’t a problem at all, Alfred. It’s always nice to have you here.”

Alfred tried to conjure up a smile, but it came off as wavered and forced. His appetite was gone, not that it was there to begin with, anyway. He suddenly felt very tired, and for once, his mind didn’t travel to Ludwig and his strong, huggable arms, but instead to his old moody cat.

With that, he stood from the table and excused himself despite Francis’ protests. He felt guilty leaving Francis and Matthew--he hadn’t seen them in so long. But he felt overwhelmed in this old, tiny house, and sitting at this round table with Arthur staring at him made him feel unbearably claustrophobic. He had to leave.

The two-in-a-half hours home was smooth and traffic free, and Alfred didn’t cry once. But then Jinx greeted him by the door with loud mews, and Alfred sobbed uncontrollably as he sunk to the ground while Jinx purred and rubbed against him.

*****

Spring cleaning was always a hassle, which was why Alfred waited until the end of the season to finally get his lazy ass up and wipe away the last 8 months. It was the same routine him and Ludwig always did, except there was cat hair to clean up and litter to vacuum. Alfred scrubbed the stove, wondering how the hell fur got all over it as the culprit lounged about and did cat things.

By the time everything smelled of cleaning products, Alfred opened his closet and drawers. After cleaning, they always went through their clothes to pick out which ones they never wore so they could be donated, and Alfred’s pile was bigger than usual. More than half his wardrobe he never used anymore. They were all too big on him.

He sighed, turning his head to look at the giant mirror hanging over the dresser. He lost weight all over, especially in his face, which used to be round and chubby but was now thin enough Alfred could see remnants of his jawline. He couldn’t believe how tired he looked. And his hair, oh God, it was a mess. It hasn’t been cut in ages, and it was starting to look like an old 80’s hairdo, except curly and an absolute wreck.

He added two more things to his spring cleaning list. Haircut, and new clothes. Right after he dropped his bags to the donation center, he drove to the nearest hair salon, and watched as the woman snipped away months and months of thick curls and depression. He looked completely different, almost healthier and happier. He felt a little bit happier, too.

After that, he nearly skipped to the entrance of a clothing store. It’s been so long since he actually talked to store employees with a smile and confidence, whereas before he barely said more than what was necessary. It felt good to be himself for an hour as he searched through the clearance section, humming and talking to himself instead of dissociating. He even managed to hold a decent conversation with an older woman who was looking at clothes for her son.

It was a beautiful day indeed, a very productive spring cleaning, for both his apartment and himself. He felt fresh, with a couple of new outfits that fit him well. However, it wasn’t until he arrived home and checked his mailbox that his mood changed completely.

The pile was thicker than the usual amount of mail he received, and he flipped through each one as he walked down the hall to his apartment door. It was the same old electricity and water bills, and some coupons from the grocery store he was a member of. After going through each one assigned to his name, and sometimes his and Ludwig’s name, he stopped in his tracks at the last pile.

It was about 10 or so letters, tied together with a rubber band. It was addressed to him, from some place he didn’t recognize. He did recognize the writing, though. It was Ludwig’s.

He bolted towards his door, shuffling his bags to reach for his keys. His hands were shaking.

“C’mon, c’mon!” He cursed to himself, fumbling around with all of his keychains to find the key to his door. Once he found it, he stabbed it into the lock and twisted, wrenching his door open with a violent push. He slammed it shut and dropped all of his bags on the spot, racing towards the kitchen.

For almost two hours, he sat and read each letter, sometimes reading certain paragraphs several times over. There were 15 in total, from the first month Ludwig was gone to the month that just passed. Exactly three letters were from last month.

Alfred experienced all sorts of emotion while reading through every single one of them. He laughed at Ludwig’s blunt humor written all over one letter, and gasped at the next. He felt anger and fear, worry and paranoia. But he also felt proud, despite his own selfishness in the beginning. And most of all, he was relieved to hear from him, and he cried more than he should have in those two hours.

It was nearly midnight when he was done digesting everything, but there was no way he would be able to sleep. So, he grabbed some paper and a pen.

*****

He tried to stifle his laughter as he stumbled along the hallway, strong arms keeping him upright as Alfred tried to tell the tall man which door was his. It’s been a while since he had been to a club, let alone drink alcohol. He may have had just a tad bit too much.

“This is it,” he slurred, pointing towards the door to his left. The man grunted and guided Alfred towards it, letting go once Alfred was stable on his feet.

“Thanks, Ivan,” Alfred turned so he was leaning against the door, straining his neck to stare up at his Russian coworker, because the guy had to be almost two feet taller than him, “For making sure I got home.”

“It was not a problem,” Ivan’s voice sounded like a deep purr, rolling his r’s in a way Alfred found kind of intriguing, “I am glad you are back to your old, annoying self. Bothering you was not as fun when you were….” He trailed off, realizing that he was probably about to say something insensitive. Alfred just snorted.

“Sad?” He finished for him, and Ivan nodded, a look of concern on his face. Alfred had noticed Ivan was sneaking glances towards him with that exact same expression a few times the past few months.

“How are you feeling now?” Ivan asked, and Alfred had to admit, he was caught off guard for a second. Everyone noticed his rapidly changing moods, and there were a few people he could rely on to be there for him. But it was always ‘it’s going to be okay’ this, and ‘you’ll get through it’ that. No one had actually bothered to ask him how he felt.

And how did he feel at the moment? He was still lonely as hell, but Jinx made up for his empty apartment. He was still easily tired, but he was more productive and wasn’t overwhelmed by social places anymore. Mental breakdowns in the car haven’t happened in months, and he made sure to get regular haircuts now. But the ache was still there, just not as strong.

“I think I’m okay,” he answered. It was the best he could give with being drunk and all, but Ivan seemed to accept the answer.

It was silent for a while, the two of them outside his door. Alfred realized for the first time how close Ivan was, and his gaze shifted to stare into his eyes. “Your eyes are purple.”

It was the first thing he could think of to say, and Ivan laughed, deep rumbles that seemingly vibrated off the walls. “And I believe yours are blue, hm?”

Alfred hummed. “Yeah.”

They stared at each other for a few more seconds, drunk and warm. Ivan was staring down at him with such intensity, and Alfred had to admit that he missed that kind of attention. His thoughts wondered to Ludwig, how he used to stare at him like that, blue eyes icy and piercing. Ivan’s were a lot different than Ludwig’s. His eyes were unwavering, powerful, and mystifying, whereas Ludwig’s were sharp, but with a soft edge. They held so much knowledge, of the world but also of Alfred. He knew Alfred, inside and out, and he was so, so gentle with that knowledge. Alfred missed him. He missed that gentleness.

In his drunken haze, he almost mistook Ivan leaning in as Ludwig, and he lurched backwards when pools of blue turned into a storm of violet.

“Whoa, whoa!” He pushed at the broad chest until he was an arms length away, leaning as much as he can against the door. Ivan took a step back to give him space, holding his hands up.

“Ah, sorry! I may have...misunderstood.”

“Yeah, you sure did! I have a fucking boyfriend, Ivan!”

Ivan put his arms down, confusion on his face. “Did you not break up?”

“No, we didn’t break up!” Alfred reeled, suddenly feeling angry, but mostly at himself.

“But he left you.”

“I--yeah, he did--”

“Sounds like a break up to me.”

Alfred choked on his words, and he grew quiet. His heart felt too big for his chest. No, that wasn’t right. Right? Ludwig just left, that was all. And he was coming back. He was coming back to him.

“Uhm,” Ivan turned his head, sticking his hands in his pockets. “I will go. Sorry.”

Alfred didn’t even hear him, or even noticed that he left. His mind was going haywire from the alcohol, but also because of his own uncertainties.

They never officially broke up, and official meant verbal. But were there other ways of breaking up? Does barely speaking to each other for two months before a long trip equivalent to a break up? What if Ludwig thought they were broken up? But what of the letters? Ludwig sent him letters.

Now that Alfred thought about it, none of the letters felt...affectionate. There was no ‘I miss you’ or ‘I love you’. No endearments. It was just his whereabouts.

He suddenly felt sick to his stomach, and he turned to unlock his door with heavy hands. He closed it with a soft click, and dragged himself to the couch, thinking about passing out on top of it because his bedroom seemed too far away. Then he noticed Jinx, peacefully sleeping and taking up one of the cushions.

Alfred stole a blanket from the sofa and fell asleep on the carpeted floor instead.

*****

Everyday, Alfred checked the mail like an obsession. Even when he knew the mail hadn’t come yet, he still raced down the steps to check the lobby. A month went by, then two--still nothing. He hoped maybe after the first batch, more would come regularly, but alas, they didn’t.

Alfred began to worry, fearing that maybe Ludwig didn’t like his letter and refused to reply. Until finally, on the third month, he saw a handwritten letter in his mailbox. Without even looking at the address, he ran to the apartment, giddiness radiating off his very body. It was the feeling he got whenever Ludwig used to give him love notes, and Alfred would find them in his bag at work. An emotion of love and being loved that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

He didn’t even make it to the kitchen this time, he just plopped himself on the living room floor, tearing into the letter almost immediately. The letter was long, and he felt excitement in his veins, but it dissipated in a flash once he actually started reading.

“Wait--” He flipped through the pages, recognizing the handwriting and the words. This was his letter, the one he wrote.

He searched through the mail until he found the ripped envelope, turning it over to read that, yes, this was the letter he himself sent. It was returned to him, with a return notice from the USSP.

Dread washed over him, his face turning as white as a sheet. He knew this could mean a lot of things, but his emotional mind could only conjure up one thing:

They couldn’t find Ludwig, because he was dead. Or captured. Or injured in the middle of a field, surrounded by dead soldiers. So many awful, horrible scenarios flashed through his mind like pictures, each one just as gruesome as the next.

Alfred felt numb. He couldn’t feel his arms, he couldn’t feel the thump-thumping of his own heart. He felt like he was far away, out of his body and staring down at himself just sitting there, surrounded by mail and looking at nothing. By the time he finally snapped out of it, hours had passed, and it was time for bed.

*****

He knew something was wrong when he walked into work at 7:00 A.M., blinked, and suddenly he was back in his apartment, standing in the doorway still in his work clothes. He’d been teetering on the edge for weeks, smothering himself in work and hobbies he forced himself to pick up on. He didn’t remember sleeping, and eating was a lost cause.

Everyday he came home with a headache, emptying the giant bottle of Ibuprofen that’s been stashed away in the medicine cabinet for years in a span of a few weeks. Those headaches only grew, until he called in sick for work one day because the pain behind his eyes made him want to hurl.

“Mattie,” he croaked into the speaker of his cellphone, his arms shaking, “Can you please come over?”

*****

“He’s out there, Alfred.”

Matthew sat beside him on their favorite hill, just a little ways from the city. It was Fall, and the grass was a burnt yellow, but it was still beautiful. And quiet.

“Ludwig is strong,” his twin continued, his voice soft and pleasant to Alfred’s sensitive ears, “He’ll come back because he loves you.”

His words made Alfred feel a little bit better, but he still couldn’t rid himself of the dark thoughts at the back of his head. “If he loved me, he wouldn’t have left to get himself killed.” He sounded bitter and selfish, he knew, but he needed to get it off his chest. He really wasn’t angry anymore. Just sad.

“He’s not wrong for leaving.”

“I know.”

“But you’re not wrong for feeling the way you do.”

Alfred looked up then, staring out into the vast field of tall grass and distant trees. “I know.”

Matthew grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Good.”

They stayed atop that hill for a few hours, their small conversations never loud enough than the breeze that rustled brown and yellow leaves off of their branches. Alfred’s ears and eyes were still sensitive, but overall the meds the hospital prescribed him did their job. And being outside, despite the lack of sun, made him feel a lot better. It was less stuffy than his apartment, and the chilled air made him breathe a lot easier.

“So,” he said after a few minutes of peaceful silence, “You and Carlos, huh?”

His twin sputtered, and Alfred huffed out a few light giggles.

Matthew talked a bit about what’s been happening in his life, including his new infatuation with Alfred’s old high school enemy. His voice was bright and airy, and Alfred watched him as he talked with such passion and joy about Carlos, his job, and a new puppy named Butter.

“Butter?” he asked with a smile.

Matthew shrugged. “He just looks like butter.”

Alfred shook his head, wondering how the hell a dog could look like butter. Then his smile turned into an excited grin. “You can nickname him Butt!”

That earned him a slap on the arm, and they both laughed until their stomachs hurt.

Later that day as Alfred laid on the couch with Jinx, a cool rag on his head, while Matthew cooked something in the kitchen, he received a text. He groaned, the sound and vibration waking him up from his light slumber. Reaching into his front pocket, he pulled out his phone and stared at the screen. The colors were blurred together as his sensitive eyes focused, and they nearly popped out of their sockets when he read who the text was from.

Ludwig. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to know what happened next, read Gerameweek Day 2: After All This Time if you haven't already!


End file.
